


Brown and Pink makes Blue and Purple

by kateweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Character, EVERYONE IS ALIVE AND HAPPY, F/M, Godfather Harry, Godfather Sirius, LGBT+ Characters, Lesbian Character, Lupin Family, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Post-War, a lil bit of angst here and there, but it's all gonna be fine i promise, dyslexic character, everyone lives au, gay Scorpius, gay albus severus, i made up the daughter, just pure fluff, might edit tags as i figure stuff out, no regular updates, prof!Remus, prof!neville, remadora lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 09:23:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateweasley/pseuds/kateweasley
Summary: The Lupins are a family just like all others. They are messy, they joke, they argue, they throw Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.But also, they're not. They are different by default and they most certainly have their burdens to carry. But they love and are loved and, ultimately, that is more important than anything else.(post-war au, everybody lives because I say so, one shot collection but they all take place in the same universe, no regular updates)





	Brown and Pink makes Blue and Purple

**Author's Note:**

> Every morning after the night of the full moon, Remus Lupin, tired and aching, walks downstairs to find his family at the breakfast table. Every morning after the night of the full moon, Remus Lupin asks himself if he is dreaming.

There were still times Remus believed he was dreaming. When he walked downstairs in the mornings after the full moon, his limbs aching, his cuts burning, his head throbbing, and saw them all still – still – sitting there at the breakfast table, surprisingly quiet though usually so loud.

There was still a part of him that, even after all these years, half-expected them to pack their things and leave in the night. He couldn't have blamed them if they did. There was still a part of him that, even after all these years, believed it would be for the better.

But every month he walked downstairs, his dressing gown wrapped tightly around his shaking figure, to find them at the kitchen table sitting over a piece of toast and a cup of tea, the tired silence occasionally interrupted by a mutter and a giggle.

Every month he walked downstairs to find that they had stayed up the entire night with him although he told them every month they didn't have to. But they insisted. And if there was one thing Remus knew about his family, it was that they were the most stubborn people he had ever met.

And every time he would simply stand there for a moment and watch them, silent and undetected. His wife Dora, her hair messy, violently yawning while attempting to not burn the eggs and not knock anything over in the process. His son Teddy, half-asleep with his hand supporting his head, his hair a bright shade of turquoise, while he spread breadcrumbs all over the table. His daughter Hope, seemingly unconscious, a steaming cup of tea in her hands while she tried her best to not fall asleep over her plate.

They weren't morning people. They didn't like pulling all-nighters. And yet they did it every month just for him.

Dora was usually the first to notice him while filling up a mug or putting half-burnt bacon on a plate. Though tired, her whole face would brighten up with a smile. She'd come over to him, kiss him good morning, always gentle as not to hurt him, and ask him in a low, worried voice how he was feeling. He'd always reply “Fine, darling“ and smile at her and let her lead him into the kitchen.

His children would look at him rather worried, trying to find any sign of injury that they knew he would never tell them about. He would always assure him that he was fine and they would never believe him but they'd never push it. Teddy would get up to fetch him a plate and Hope would fill up his favourite mug that she got him for Christmas years ago with a hot brew. Dora would put breakfast on his plate, kissing him on the top of his head as he thanked her, Teddy would get him a blanket although he never asked for one because they knew how cold he got, and Hope would give him a critical look as though she was trying to determine if he would fall off his chair in a moment of weakness.

But usually, it was she who fell most out of her chair, Teddy who tripped over the blanket and Dora who spilled the scrambled eggs all over the floor. It was Hope who would knock over the tea cup, Teddy who would smear his shirt with jam and Dora who would crash into the corner of the kitchen table while trying to clean up the mess.

It was usually he who cleaned up. They did enough for him already and he seemed to be the only one who seemed to remember in these situations that they were capable of performing magic.

And every month he sat there in the morning, drinking tea and watching his son trying to get jam stains out of his pyjamas, while his daughter began to tell him something, flapping her arms around as she did so – a trait she had definitely inherited from her mother - and he would smile to himself and tell himself that no, he wasn't dreaming, after all.


End file.
